


Updating the Arrangement

by MinervaEvenstar



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's Surprisingly Extensive Sexual Knowledge, Canon Compliant, Crowley's Awkward Seduction, Dorks in Love, First Time, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, feeding the ducks, nerdy dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 21:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12466652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinervaEvenstar/pseuds/MinervaEvenstar
Summary: There are rules against intimacy in most business relationships. One long-standing Arrangement is overdue for an update.





	Updating the Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Crowley and Aziraphale are the Creations of the Ineffable Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.

  
 A man in a stylish suit wearing expensive sunglasses above his impressive cheekbones sauntered through St. James Park, taking care to step on any blades of grades that weren’t meeting his high standards. While his wealth was obvious, his origins were not. He was racially-ambiguous with handsome olive skin that could have been Brazilian, Egyptian, Filipino, or anything in between. In reality, it was a Hellfire tan designed to make any unwary person feel they could relate to him, but oddly no one ever guessed that ethnicity. He earned a few lustful glances, but most people looked away quickly. Yes, he looked attractive, but also dangerous in an indefinable way, like Temptation personified. Actually, Anthony J. Crowley, being the snake from the Garden and Eden and whatnot, _was_ Temptation personified. The other humanoid-looking entity Crowley approached was utterly different, and not merely because he was sitting on a bench with his legs tucked underneath him to _avoid_ crushing any botanical life while he threw bits of broken bread to water fowl on the lake.

 

Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, chose to adopt an appearance that was almost painfully average for the British setting. He was neither tall, nor short. He was neither thin, nor fat. He wore a clean, yet dull, tartan jumper over an assuming tie and buttoned shirt. His pale face was slightly plump, nearly cherubic, but otherwise unremarkable. If anyone had been able to see his ethereal blue eyes – brighter and warmer than any summer sky – they would have been awed. However, Aziraphale concealed his angelic feature beneath unkempt blonde curls and thick, dusty spectacles. Best not to alarm the humans and all that. Crowley hid demonic, snake-like orbs behind flashy shades for the same reason.

 

“Good afternoon, Crowley,” Aziraphale greeted politely.

 

“Yeah, Bad afternoon back at you,” muttered the demon distractedly.

 

“My dear, is something wrong?” Aziraphale asked worriedly, rising to his feet.

 

“Wrong? No, no, but not Right either. Certainly not Right because Evil can’t do things that are Right…”

 

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed in puzzlement and he questioned cautiously. “Dear boy, were you drinking before you came here?”

 

“What a terrific idea!” An uncorked bottle manifested itself in Crowley’s hand and he took a long swig from it, ignoring Aziraphale’s scolding that a mortal might have noticed. After swallowing the contents and inhaling deeply, he seemed somewhat more relaxed. “Well, the thing is, I got something for you…”

 

“Crowley, gifts are against The Arrangement!” Aziraphale protested. They’d both agreed long ago that Aziraphale better not indulge Crowley’s Temptations of Greed and Crowley ought to avoid Aziraphale’s Inspirations of Charity. “You’d better hold onto whatever it is until I have something for you in return.” Trades, on the other hand, maintained the status quo and were fully accepted by both supernatural parties.

 

“Not to worry, angel, because, that is, I got something that I don’t want, and figured I might as well give it to you, see, rather than toss it; not that I went out and got it specifically FOR you…” Crowley produced a scroll from his pocket and held it out to his bibliophilic friend awkwardly.

 

Aziraphale unrolled the ancient manuscript, which replaced one he’d lost after The-End-of-the-World-Oops-Just-Kidding, and his eyes widened in wonder. “Where did you find this?”

 

Crowley shrugged and answered vaguely, “Around.”

 

The Heavenly being was too enthralled to press for further details. “I really appreciate this, but you know I can’t accept it unless I compensate you.”

 

Crowley licked his lips. “I, uh, have a suggestion.”

 

Hellish suggestions were, in essence, never Good ones, but Crowley had a spark of Goodness that Aziraphale had learned to trust over the millennia. “Yes, my dear chap?”

 

“You,” Crowley stepped closer, “er, that is, we…could,” his hand raised as if he wanted to place it somewhere, “try…” golden eyes flicked to Aziraphale’s full mouth and he unconsciously licked his own again, “a new,” the gaze returned to Aziraphale’s warm azure orbs and Crowley stepped back so suddenly it was as if he had been pushed. “restaurant! We could try a new restaurant, and you could pay! That would be fair. Yesss…”

 

Crowley tended to get jumpy and anxious some of the time, but for the past several centuries those times were almost exclusively when he received correspondence from Below. Ironic as it may be, the demon seemed more comfortable around his angelic ‘nemesis’ than anyone else. Current circumstances excluded. “Certainly,” Aziraphale cautiously agreed, wondering what was causing his counterpart’s mood. “Would you care to go to lunch now?”

 

“Now is soon. Immediate, even. Now? Yeah.” Suavity had apparently abandoned Crowley by the side of a deserted highway and stolen his snakeskin wallet and mobile phone for good measure.

 

“All right. You can choose the place. Lead the way.” Aziraphale linked an arm with Crowley’s and the Tempter immediately twitched. The two of them did not deliberately touch often, but when they did, it was no cause for concern. Crowley’s behaviour was baffling. He ought not to be acting this way unless…Unlikely as it was, Aziraphale could come to only one conclusion. To test his hypothesis, he allowed his hand to drift from Crowley’s elbow down to his fingers, where he interlocked the digits. Crowley squeaked in a most un-serpent-like manner and his hand convulsed in the angel’s, though he did not pull away. Aziraphale resisted the impulse to grin smugly and suggested as innocently as possible (being an angel, he could appear more innocent than a kindergarten child, but less than a newborn kitten), “Why don’t you take me home?” At Crowley’s uncomprehending stare, he added, “A restaurant is no place for a priceless manuscript. I should put the scroll away before our…” This was it. Aziraphale could simply say ‘luncheon’ and there would be no risk of embarrassing himself. Of course, Aziraphale had Faith that love was one thing invariably worth taking chances on. “…date.”

 

The brunet nodded at the sensible recommendation before ceasing the movement abruptly. “Date?”

 

“Haven’t you been courting me for years, dear boy?” Aziraphale asked airily. “I assumed you had been. My apologies for the misinterpretation if that wasn’t your intent.” He held a breath he didn’t need as he waiting for Crowley to confirm or deny his motives.

 

Crowley took another drink from the bottle of liquid courage in his hand, the hand that was not currently touching an angel. “A date as an interpretation is, you know, as fine as anything else.”

 

Aziraphale beamed liked the sun. “Excellent, we’re in agreement! Let’s be off then. Be a dear and sober up before you start to drive, please.”

 

They never made it to the restaurant. They didn’t leave the bookshop for weeks, actually, but let’s not get ahead of the story.

 

Crowley drove more calmly than usual, only causing four other drivers to send him indecent hand gestures, and Aziraphale thought it was an attempt to get into the angel’s good graces. He needn’t have bothered, as he was already there, but the shopkeeper wisely kept that information to himself. When they got to the store, Aziraphale invited Crowley inside for hot cocoa. The offer was accepted, and they sat closer than ever on Aziraphale’s tartan settee to sip the heated beverage. The sides of their human vessels pressed lightly together from shoulder to ankle.

 

Aziraphale turned to his oldest friend and when the serpent moved his head in kind their breaths – warm and sweet from their drinks – filled the few small inches between them like a promise. “There’s something I need you to tell me. No evasion. No sarcasm.”

 

Crowley raised his dark eyebrows mockingly. “No promises.”

 

“Crowley.” The single word was loaded with meaning, stressed by Aziraphale gently putting a hand on the demon’s knee.

 

Swallowing thickly, Crowley acquiesced by tentatively putting his own hand over Aziraphale’s so there was a provocative minute mountain on his knee, or something like that. “Fine. Have it your way.”

 

Aziraphale could not help the earnestness of his expression. “How do you feel about me?”

 

Crowley winced. “Come on, angel. You can’t ask a demon to talk about his feelings.” He looked imploringly over his sunglasses, appealing to the angel’s mercy. When Aziraphale gazed determinedly back, the demon’s expression became an angry glare. When _that_ caused no alteration in the bookworm’s visage, Crowley groaned in defeat. He pushed his shades back up the bridge of his nose and regarded somewhere to the left so he wouldn’t be forced to view Aziraphale’s face, and his cohort of six millennia wouldn’t be able to read his easily. “All right, well, I’ve seen a lot of stuff. Been a lot of places. Done a lot of things. Met a lot of beings and people.”

 

“True, as have I.”

 

“Yeah, but I’ve seen _more_. Heaven _and_ Hell _and_ Earth. Comes with the territory of being a Fallen angel stationed on this planet. Anyway, the point is, in all the things I’ve come across on all of the worlds I’ve been to, nothing compares to – well, without you nothing is – I mean, with you everything is – I didn’t care about anything until – the best part of Existence is your -” The snake blessed loudly in frustration. Mathew’s passages were his preferences for moments like this. As a result, he had never blessed from Mathew’s part of Scripture, as he had never had the Heavenly misfortune to be in a position like this in the past. “For Somebody’s sake, you know what I’m trying to say, right?” Finally, he looked back at Aziraphale and found the answering smile to be joyful and kind.

 

“I do. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I needed to ask. You don’t have to say anything else. Thank you for sharing with me what you could.”

 

A sigh of relief escaped the suited being. “No problem. Wait, on second thought, it was a big problem. Massive, like, bigger than the Plague. So, you’re welcome and all, but it can’t happen again. Never, as in _not ever.”_

 

“Never?” Aziraphale pouted and Miracled away their mugs of cocoa so his other hand was free to glide over Crowley’s silk shirt and rest over his heart. “Not even when,” soft angelic lips teased Crowley’s ear, “you Inspire me to share things with you?”

 

Crowley fidgeted, his hand tightening around the angel’s digits and his heartbeat increasing uselessly under the Aziraphale’s touch. “What, uh, things were you getting at?”

 

Aziraphale huffed peevishly. “I see what you mean about not wanting to spell it out, but fair’s fair since you made the effort to do it for me.” He met his soon-to-be-lover’s gaze unwaveringly. “I want to make the Effort.” The capital letter was evident, the definition unmistakable. “Um, you know, with you.”

 

Crowley gaped; he couldn’t have been more shocked if Aziraphale had said he wanted to give up his bookshop and dedicate his life to the lost art of making wax figures of ostriches, an avian creature far inferiour to ducks. “You – I – We – But… _Aziraphale_. I thought you couldn’t. After all, I suggested we try it back in Rome when it was commonplace for man-shaped beings to fu-”

 

Aziraphale lifted his manicured hand from Crowley’s torso to hold it up in warning. “You do not want to finish that sentence, you old serpent. Offending me right now would not be one of your more clever ideas.” For once, Crowley remained obediently silent and nodded. “That was a couple millennia back, wasn’t it? Our Arrangement has progressed a great deal since then. Our, erm, feelings have developed. Wouldn’t you agree? You really should agree.” Again, Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale smiled. “In that case, we ought to make some adjustments to update the Arrangement.” He primly reached for a pen and notepad.

 

Crowley flicked his tongue out against his lips, regarding his prey contemplatively. “Instead of making a list, can we start with a demonstration?”

 

Aziraphale paused, noting that Crowley had finally lost his anxiety over the situation because he was confident of success. A demon’s confidence ought to have worried an angel, but this Divine being trusted this Diabolical creature, so all he felt was a tiny thrill of excitement. “I don’t see why that wouldn’t be amiable, my dear.”

 

Crowley pounced so swiftly that Aziraphale was pinned to the cushions ere he could blink. “I have ssspent thousssands and thousssands of yearsss,” Crowley hissed, tugging on Aziraphale’s unfashionable clothing and licking, sucking, nipping any ethereal skin he could reach, “having fantasssiesss about you. I hope you don’t have anything planned for the ressst of the month, angel, because you aren’t going anywhere for weeksss.”

 

Silently grateful that neither of them required food, sleep, or oxygen, Aziraphale gladly let Crowley have his way with him, taking things for himself when Inspiration struck. If anything solidified Aziraphale’s Faith in Holiness, it was certainly the sensation of being wrapped inside the Blissful combination love and lust Crowley provided.

 

A fortnight went by, and Soho residents wondered if the owner of local bookshop, which kept irregular hours, was abroad. The owners of the nearby bakery dearly hoped the polite gentleman wasn’t ill. He was one of their best customers.

 

“You are a fiend.”

 

“Well, it takes one to know one.”

 

“You’re slipping, demon. That isn’t nearly on par with your usual insults.”

 

“What level of wit do you expect post-orgasm? Punish me if you’re so disappointed.”

 

“Is that, uh, an invitation? I’m still not too familiar with the nuances of modern foreplay. Because, if it is, then I’m sure I could think of something – a naughty way to punish you, that is – while we wait for our take-away food to arrive. Uh, I think.”

 

“…”

 

“Crowley, are you well? Your eyes have gotten huge.”

 

“The better to sssee you with.”

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“Never mind. The point is, you truly are just enough of a bastard to be worth it.”

 

“Worth what?”

 

“Everything.”

 

“Oh, dear boy, that is-”

 

“Shit.”

 

“Excuse me?!”

 

“I didn’t mean ‘everything.’ Well, I meant it, but I didn’t mean to sssay it. The correct moment or whatever for sappiness is over. Can’t we jussst return to our next round of fornication? Much easier.”

 

“Well…There should be consequences for your use profane language.”

 

“Right! I have a very Bad mouth and you should teach me to use it for Good.”

 

“You’re eager to learn?”

 

“You know me. Keen.”

 

“In that case, turn around and bend over. Prepare for a severe Thrawting…Um, what is it? Why is your mouth agape like that? Oh, gracious, I’ve done something wrong, haven’t I? I’m sorry-”

 

“No, no, not at all. That was creative and assertive and dorky and unexpected and you just – you’re perfect, angel, seriously.”

 

“I appreciate the sentiment, uh, I think, but only God is perfect.”

 

“For the wretchedness of Somebody, don’t mention Him _now_. Not only does it kill the mood, but we don’t want attention from either of our sides when we’re like this. Be a bit difficult to explain the nudity this far from Eden.”

 

“To show love is sublime, however, I take your point. The other angels mightn’t understand.”

 

“Speaking of, you seem much more skilled at the bedroom scene than the rest of your people. Not that I would know from experience, fortunately, but they’ve a Chaste and Prudish reputation.”

 

“To my knowledge, none of us partake in, you know, amorous activities unless we’re- unless w-we – Ahh! Crowley, don’t expect me to, ooh that’s nice, continue this conversation if you keep, mmm, doing _that!_ ”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Liar.”

 

“Guilty. Put it on the list of things for which I need retribution.”

 

“Oh, I assure you, dear one, I will. You shan’t walk or fly properly for days.”

 

“Gnnk!”

 

“Is that an objection?”

 

“No!”

 

“Good. Now, where was I? Ah, I remember! Angels don’t show Zeal physically unless we’re assigned the task of bringing a human Divine Ecstasy, and we might not even achieve that through sexual means. I personally haven’t implemented that method since, oh, the 1600s.”

 

“The 1600s…? I _knew_ some of those bard’s sonnets were about you! Ha!”

 

“ _Ahem,_ William aside, I also have first edition of numerous penny dreadfuls, which I doubt anyone else from Up There has read.”

 

“I am buying you more of those. Loads more.”

 

“That isn’t necessary, for Heaven’s sake.”

 

“I asssure you, it’sss for my sake.”

 

Another fortnight went by and Soho residents wondered if the bookshop was going out of business given that it had been closed for so long. They were disappointed upon learning the cob-web-filled eyesore wouldn’t be going anywhere. The bakers, on the other hand, were eventually delighted when the gentleman bought several pastries, claiming to have worked up quite an appetite.


End file.
